“Your mail.”
“Oh.” I nodded absentmindedly.
Unable to eat another bite, I pushed the saucer aside. I shuffled through the mail, halfheartedly reading the names on the envelopes.
“What’s this?” I paused on a handwritten envelope. The writing didn’t look familiar.
“Don’t know.” Rayven shrugged.
By then, I was opening the letter. “It’s a wedding invite.”
“Who’s getting married?” Rayven asked, only sounding halfway interested in the answer. I didn’t take it personally. My cousin always seemed to have two or three things going on in her head at once. Except when she was actively working as my security. She was one hundred percent focused then.
I scanned the gold lettering of the invitation. “Mr. Micah Bright Sun Townsend and Ms. Jodi Taylor cordially invite you to attend their wedding.”
“What kind of name is Bright Sun?” Rayven scoffed.
I didn’t answer as I read the location of the wedding. Jodi Taylor was my publicist. Or, she had been. Until she went off to Texas, decided to quit her job, and get married to some guy she met down there.
“Do you want me to reach out to Demetria to have her pick out a gift from the registry to send?”
“Huh? What?” I asked, still staring at the invite.
Rayven pointed at the invite in my hands. “Demetria. Do you want me to let her know to send a gift or something?”
Demetria, my assistant, usually did things like that. Sending a gift or a bouquet on my behalf when I couldn’t … or, honestly, just didn’t want to attend an event. An idea sparked in my mind as I glanced down at my guitar.
“Where’s Harlington, Texas?” I asked.
“How am I supposed to know? I’ve been to Houston and Dallas, and only for your shows,” Rayven answered.
“It sounds like a small town, right?”
“Why are you asking these questions?”
Standing, I held up the invite. “Maybe this is what I need.”
“A wedding invite.”
I shook my head. “No. Some time away from LA or any other big city. Maybe down there, I’d have space to think and to write.”
Rayven looked around, her eyes circling the kitchen and the living room behind me. “Four thousand square feet isn’t enough space for you to write?”
Frustrated, I sucked my teeth. “Not just physical space but mental space. LA is too crowded. There are too many industry people here. Too many familiar faces. People angling for the right time to pounce and get the latest gossip about me.”
“So, you want to go to the wedding of your publicist to get away from the media? Make it make sense, Lena,” Rayven said.
“No, not like that.” I waved my hand in the air. “I mean, yeah, I’ll make an appearance at the wedding. But then I can maybe stay in Harlington. Find out from Jodi any private places to stay for a few weeks, maybe a month or two, so I can write.”
I peered down at the invite again. For the first time in a long while, a genuine smile crested on my lips. I’d considered going off to someplace for privacy a few times over the recent months but couldn’t think of anywhere that sounded appealing.
This invitation from Jodi felt like some sort of sign that it was meant to be. Maybe, just maybe, I could get my writing mojo back.
“Now, you’re going all the way down to Texas with the Good Ol’ Boys so that you can write an album.”
“Don’t say it like that.” I frowned. “Texas can’t be that bad if Jodi decided to move down there. She fell in love and is getting married.”
“To someone named Bright Sun,” Rayven scoffed.
